


Guts and Seeds

by Jenetica



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Halloween, Jack-o'-lanterns, M/M, Will Knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 16:01:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenetica/pseuds/Jenetica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will loves Halloween, and he really wants to see what Hannibal can do with a pumpkin. Hannibal rolls up his sleeves and gets to work.</p>
<p>Short, plotless-pornless fic about Hannigram enjoying the Halloween season. Based on <a href="http://themurderfamilybusiness.tumblr.com/post/63326003074/dr-abel-gideon-nbc-hannibal-graphics-challenge">this post.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Guts and Seeds

**Author's Note:**

> I saw the pictures and couldn't resist. I've always wanted to write Hannibal carving pumpkins, and NOW I HAVE. 
> 
> Un-beta'd. I use markdown formatting when I write, so if you see any rogue asterisks let me know.
> 
> Enjoy!

Will crunched over the fallen leaves in his yard toward the garden, watching as his dogs ran off and chased after each other. God, he loved fall.

The season had been unusually warm this year, resting in the seventies and eighties instead of its usual sixties, but Will didn't mind. The brisk of autumn reminded him of the pervasive chill of winter that crawled between his sheets and into his mind. The cold numbed and anesthetized; it stole the heat from his body and the energy from his limbs, and Will hated it wholly.

But autumn carried, too, that inescapable thrum of excitement of knowing that the holiday season is coming. Will had no reason to celebrate-- one needed a neighborhood to trick-or-treat, a family to break Thanksgiving bread with, friends with whom to exchange presents-- but that didn't stop the cheer from creeping into the crevices of his being. Halloween was coming. Halloween was Will's favorite.

Why? Anyone would ask, and with good reason: Will lived a nightmare every single day of his life, wriggling his way into the thoughts and actions of the demons of humanity. How could he possibly enjoy such a depraved holiday?

The answer was in the question itself. Will enjoyed Halloween because it  _was_ spooky. It gave him a sick sense of satisfaction to see the world spin on its heel and embrace horror the way he did. It was a hot, itchy, almost-hate sort of love that pushed away Will's fear for a while and replaced it with pumpkin pies and candy corn.

This Halloween, in particular, though, was going to be legendary. It was Will's first Halloween with Hannibal and, surprisingly enough, the psychiatrist loved the holiday almost as much as Will did. It was different, of course-- Hannibal enjoyed the origins of Samhain and creating increasingly creepy dishes, while Will took to plastic skeletons and cream-based face paint like a five year old-- but that didn't make it any less exciting.

Will carried two large pumpkins into his house, resting each on the island in the kitchen with expectant glee. He'd been so excited when the pumpkin plants took off in his garden, tiny green bulbs ballooning into massive orange gourds. They were like a clock ticking down, whispering filthily in his ear, "When we're done, you'll carve us up and bake us and light candles inside us and we'll rot away and it will be  _beautiful_."

"I have a recipe for garlic basil loin that will complement perfectly with slices of pumpkin," Hannibal said, walking into the kitchen. He rarely stayed over at Will's house because he had clients almost every day, and it was easier to prepare when he lived in his workplace; it made today's visit very special, indeed. "Are there more out there?"

"A few," Will replied, scrubbing the dirt off his hands in the sink. "These are the ripest. Will you carve them with me?" The question was, like many of Will's questions, loaded.  _Will you give up your façade of impeccable civility for a little while for me? Will you dare to let me see you wield a scalpel? Will you create a masterpiece for me?_

_Will you let me in?_

Hannibal stood stoically, giving Will one of his dramatic, pregnant pauses. "I think I can find time in my schedule for that, yes."

Will didn't even attempt to hide his smile. "Good. I'm going to put on some old clothes; pumpkin guts are hard to scrub out. Want a shirt?"

"I'll be fine," Hannibal said, rolling up the sleeves of button-down. He gave Will a small smile. "I have experience with avoiding stains."

Right, because he cooked all the time. Will nodded and turned away before Hannibal could see his smile turn into a disappointed frown. Sometimes their relationship felt like a dance of two steps forward, one step back. Hannibal let him in enough to carve pumpkins, but he refused to surrender his armor-like clothing. Will wished he could shake the psychiatrist and scream "I know who you are! I love you anyway! Can't you accept that?"

But Will was a patient man, and there were jack-o'-lanterns to be made. These weighty thoughts could wait a day.

Half an hour later found them scooping out squishy pumpkin innards. They were actually pretty evenly paced; Hannibal had skill, but Will had experience. Hannibal insisted that Will put the seeds into one bowl and the guts into another, so that he could work with them later on. Will did so eagerly, excited to see what Hannibal would concoct with the ingredients. Whatever it was, it was bound to be delicious.

Will had an entire pumpkin carving kit, with different tools for different types of cuts, but Hannibal used a scalpel anyway. Of course he did. Will didn't even bother asking him why he carried around a scalpel, because he was sure he didn't want to know the answer. Some secrets were best left alone.

They spent a while decided what kinds of designs they wanted to carve. Well,  _Will_ knew what he was doing-- he liked the standard pumpkin face, with triangle features and pointy teeth-- but Hannibal wanted to do something that took more thought.

"I think it must be reflective of the medium itself," he mused, rubbing a thumb along the thick edge of the hole at the top. "The light shines through the flesh, which is translucent. If carved carefully, the image will make a striking appearance. Don't you agree?" He turned to Will expectantly.

"I've seen amazing 3-D jack-o'-lanterns," Will responded, nodding thoughtfully. Inside, he was delighted. Hannibal was actually taking this seriously. These pumpkins were going to look  _amazing_. "I've got some drafting paper I use to draw engine schematics. I can fetch it, if you'd like."

"Please, do," Hannibal said thoughtfully. "I must decide what to make."

Will didn't trust himself to offer suggestions. Instead, he scurried to find his paper and pencils, which were somewhere in the guest bedroom. By the time he'd found them and brought them to the kitchen, Hannibal had decided what he was going to make.

But he wouldn't tell Will. "You shall see when it's done." Hannibal and his dramatics. Will wouldn't have him any other way.

"I can accept that."

Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you saw it, Will was done with his simple design ("This is my design," he carved into the bottom with a wry grin) in a matter of minutes. Hannibal wasn't even done with his sketch yet. Will chose to see it positively: this way, he could watch the psychiatrist work. Hannibal was, as always, absolutely fascinating to watch. He finished his sketch efficiently and began etching it, in light, short strokes, onto the pumpkin with his scalpel. He worked all the way around the gourd, referencing his sketch rarely.

Will was beside himself. This was going to be the best pumpkin he'd ever seen, he just knew it. He felt like a child again. God, he loved Halloween.

Before he began carving in earnest, Hannibal brought a stool to the island to sit on. Will grabbed one for himself, as well.

"Will it bother you if I watch?"

"Of course not," Hannibal replied, draping a towel across his knee. "During my days as a surgeon, I would have a gallery of peers observing my operations. This is no different. I only fear you will grow bored."

"Hannibal, I doubt I could ever get bored watching you," Will said seriously. And it was true, silly as it sounded. What with his special cocktail of neuroses, Will was an avid people-watcher, and Hannibal was a dove among pigeons. Will could read novels in the flick of Hannibal's wrist, epic poems in the swipe of his thumb. Boredom? Will couldn't imagine it.

Hannibal got to work, and he was even more enthralling than Will had imagined. Before Will's eyes grew a horse, then a league of horses. An infantry followed, and-- Will could hardly believe his eyes-- a series of war elephants came after. Every so often, Hannibal would wipe his scalpel on the towel, and the counter was strewn in chunks and slivers of pumpkin. But none of that mattered, because now Hannibal was carefully adding in mountains behind the army, sliding his scalpel just under the skin and peeling it away to keep the mountains dark. Oh, of  _course_. Hannibal was drawing his namesake, Hannibal the conqueror, who led an army across the Alps. Will almost smacked himself for not figuring it out sooner.

After he was done with the mountains, Hannibal went back to the army and deepened certain grooves and sections. Will was sure that, if he tried, he could see how magnificent it would look lit up, but where was the fun in that? Watching the flicker of candlelight shine through the meat of pumpkin was the whole point. Hannibal was done far sooner than Will had expected, but the art was still incredible. Hannibal had taken the time to make the carving smooth and even, the flesh of the pumpkin swirling and dipping easily into the artwork.

Will cleaned up the counter while Hannibal washed his hands. Their pumpkins looked equally ridiculous next to each other, Will's stupidly simple and Hannibal's devastatingly intricate. Will couldn't wait to light them up. As soon as Hannibal was clean (and he hadn't gotten a single spot on his shirt, the bastard), they carried their pumpkins to the porch and dropped tea candles into them.

Lit up, Hannibal's pumpkin was magnificent. There was no other word for it. Will was sure he'd watched Hannibal closely, but he missed the tiny strokes that brought the carving to life. Tiny lines gave the elephants thick, wrinkled skin and the horses long, flowing manes. The foot soldiers looked weary, while the cavalry looked bored. And, at the front, Hannibal sat regally upon his steed. But wait--

"Did you give him your own face?" Will asked, amused. He wasn't sure what Hannibal-the-conqueror had looked like, but he doubted the man had Hannibal-the-psychiatrist's sharp cheekbones and sleek haircut.

"A moment of self-indulgence," Hannibal confessed, shooting Will a small, apologetic smile. Will kissed him for it.

"I love it," Will said. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Immensely," Hannibal replied, sounding vaguely surprised. "Carving a pumpkin is a singular sort of experience. It was quite satisfying. Did you enjoy carving your own pumpkin?"

Will laughed derisively. "For the full two minutes it lasted, sure. I think I'll take a leaf out of your book and try something more imaginative next time."

Hannibal slid his hands into his pockets. "I recommend it. Next year I'll plan more. How big can pumpkins grow?"

"To my knowledge? Upwards of eight hundred pounds, if you try," Will said, scratching his beard. Hannibal looked like someone had just given him Christmas early.

"Maybe I should start planning now."

Will laughed and patted Hannibal on the shoulder. "I'll get the drafting paper."


End file.
